


Games Adults Play

by icedteainthebag



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-29
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedteainthebag/pseuds/icedteainthebag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Games Adults Play

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_epics**](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/) ~~spit~~ ship swap exchange in order to fulfill [](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/profile)[**wishflsinfl**](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/)'s request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.
> 
> Many thanks to [**aka_plynn**](http://aka-plynn.livejournal.com/) for the fantastic suggestions. Shout-out to [**plaid_slytherin**](http://plaid-slytherin.livejournal.com/) for her Fleet knowledge, and to everyone who listened to me whine and bitch about how this will never work.

The smell of dust, of fire and waste, the screech of Raiders near.

Her mouth was dry and this time didn't taste of liquor. This kiss was slow, familiar. Laura held back as soft lips tried to illicit a response.

Another Raider seared the sky.

Laura pulled away. Ellen's face was streaked with dirt and tears, dark circles under her eyes, an abrasion fresh on her cheek. None of it hid the impact of her rejection.

"You can't do this without him."

-

 _Twenty-eight days after the attack on the Colonies_

Ellen didn't think it was terribly important that she remember how she got into the sickbay on _Rising Star_. She recalled that she was at a bar on Picon coming on to some sleazy but strangely attractive man in all black. She didn't think she'd gone home with him, but she wasn't sure. Every memory after the last martini she'd sucked down was missing.

This happened sometimes, to be honest. But these were extenuating circumstances.

Even if she did sleep with this man in black, she could blame the nuke for her lack of memory. Maybe she'd never see him again. She decided she wouldn't mind that at all.

Her recovery on board the medical ship, once she came to, was relatively quick. Somehow she'd escaped Picon without major injuries. Sure, her face felt, and probably looked, like she'd been hit by a truck and her limbs ached with some fury without the effective, addictive pain meds she'd been given. At least she was alive.

When she first asked her doctor if he knew whether Saul was alive and the doctor smiled and immediately knew the answer, she was filled with an immense joy. It was like the sun began to shine and birds began to sing.

The analogy lost a lot of its relevance for her in the next few hours when she realized she may never see sunshine or birds again.

She had asked to see Saul and hours passed, hours in which she fretted and wondered if she could find a mirror somewhere to see if she looked presentable. She needed a shower. She needed a lot of things.

The doctor came back and the first thing she did was stand up and ask where she could find some decent clothes. The doctor gestured to a bag next to her bed. "These came with you," he said.

She'd never seen the bag before, but it was tasteful.

"The frak," she whispered.

"Commander Adama has arranged to personally see to your transport back to _Galactica_."

Her eyes popped open with shock. She literally felt them do it. "Adama? Bill Adama?"

"Yes. The Commander... he's in charge of the Colonial Fleet now. Since the attacks."

"Oh, Gods," Ellen said. "I think I need to sit down again."

She didn't know why Saul wasn't coming for her, but knew that the doctor wouldn't have any answers for her either. She certainly didn't mind seeing Bill. It had been a long time.

"Or maybe I need a shower."

-

Weeks run ragged with no end in sight. Adama had been tested before—he was a war-worn competitor, unwilling to give up until his legs gave out from under him. He'd always been that way, but this was different. There was no war but the war against the end; no defense but avoiding the offense. Death was inevitable, but the means by which one achieved death, this time, had to be a choice. He was making the choice for all of them.

It was tiring and it was endless, with a new wrench thrown into things every frakkin' day.

The wrench of the day: Ellen.

Adama's head was spinning at the revelation of her bizarre arrival; granted, she'd had a history of those. It had impacted him so much that he knew it was affecting his ability to command the Fleet. Roslin had noticed it and so had Saul.

He was one hundred percent sure Roslin thought he was a Cylon. In a way he couldn't blame her. He didn't trust anyone either. It had been proven that terrible things happened when he did.

As his white-knuckled hands gripped the controls on his approach to _Rising Star_ , he acknowledged that Roslin could very well be planning some sort of unusual greeting for his return to _Galactica_. If she had her way, she'd be armed to the gills with Marines whom she had convinced of her paranoid Cylon conspiracy. She'd have him thrown in the brig and Saul'd take command. That, more than anything, would make Ellen pretty damn happy. But it would be a terrible mistake, one Roslin would regret.

This was one seed of many the Cylons had planted that had actually sprouted: self-destructive paranoia.

He maneuvered the Raptor into the hull of the small medical transport, teetering here and there. He completely blew his landing, skidding diagonally across the deck like a frakkin' nugget. This led to a few strange looks exchanged among the deck crew that were quickly righted when he emerged from the bird and they gave him a stone-faced salute.

"At ease," he said. "Good morning, everyone."

He looked down on the deck and there she was. Ellen Tigh, alive and fairly well.

He didn't necessarily wish death upon anyone. Not necessarily. But a convenient absence would have sufficed and made his life a hell of a lot easier.

But he wasn't here for himself. He was here for his friend.

She looked the same—curly long blond hair spilling over her shoulders, her smile broad with a brightly colored flowered suitcase at her feet. He wasn't sure where or how she'd gotten ahold of designer luggage at the end of the worlds. Surely she hadn't had time to pack a bag before or after the nukes hit.

"Bill Adama," Ellen drawled, snapping him out of his contemplative fug.

She sounded the same too.

He hopped off the wing of the Raptor and walked up to her. When within arm's reach, a few awkward seconds passed. His confusion as to how to greet her was resolved when she grabbed him and pulled him into a close embrace.

"Ellen," he said as she pressed against him. She smelled like her familiar and complex perfume, a scent not many women could pull off that he'd secretly coined 'floral frugality.' "This is certainly a surprise. There weren't that many survivors that made it out of the Colonies."

"Well, you know me, Bill," she said, clinging tightly. "I'm a survivor."

"Today you are," he agreed, pulling away until her resistant arms loosened. She flashed him an apologetic smile. Maybe a sympathetic one.

"I'm sorry, Bill. I know you're not into public displays of affection, but I'm just so happy to see you. I just..." She paused and sniffled, her eyes filling with tears that he detected were genuine. "... I'm just so happy to see you and I can't believe I'm going to see my husband again."

He nodded, clasping his hands in front of him and pushing his shoulders back. He was still the Commander here, despite this intimate display in front of a smattering of people who rarely saw him in person. He was going to have to do something about that when there weren't any emotional theatrics involved.

"Saul..." he began.

Anything he could say aloud was going to sound trite. Saul will be thrilled? Saul will be overjoyed?

 _Saul will start drinking like a frakkin' fish again and I'm going to have to watch him like a hawk while maintaining the safety and security of forty-seven thousand other human beings in this Fleet._

"Saul will be thrilled," he said, his voice low. He motioned to the Raptor, subdued. "After you."

Ellen smiled and grabbed the handles of her bag at her feet. He hesitated, then decided to let her pick it up. He'd never been a bag-carrying man.

"Well, I'm thrilled to see him," she said as she managed in her fashionable heels to climb the wing of the Raptor and slip into its cabin. Adama turned and acknowledged the crew.

"Thank you for your help," he said to the deck chief, a scrawny man named Nolton.

"Sir."

"Things going well here?"

The chief looked like he didn't want to tell a lie. "As well as can be expected, Sir."

Adama studied him, watching his slow breakdown of confidence under a scrutinizing eye. "The people need anything here—you hear anything of the sort—you need to bring it to my attention."

Nolton nodded. "All right."

"Or Roslin's," Adama added as an afterthought.

"Yes, Sir."

He climbed into the Raptor and saw Ellen strapped into one of the rear passenger seats.

"I was gonna ride shotgun, but then thought I'd sit back here," she said giddily. "You know. To surprise Saul even more."

"Oh, he'll be surprised." Adama strapped himself into his cockpit seat.

Things were blessedly silent as he cleared the Raptor for passage from _Rising Star_ 's airspace, his battlestar looming on the bow. He never tired of seeing her; she always took his breath away.

"It's really good to see you, Bill."

He felt a nervous swirl in his stomach. "It's good to see you too, Ellen."

"Do you think... once I have some time with Saul, I should probably see you and talk to you... about the details of everything that's happened."

Bill took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You should probably tell Saul all the details."

He emphasized his XO's name and kept his eyes steadily on his target—his home.

"Our lives have changed, Ellen," he finally said, the Raptor lurching on a more-severe-than-intended left turn toward _Galactica_ 's hull. "A lot of things can't be the same."

"I see." Her voice was soft but unconvincing.

He knew Ellen only saw what she wanted to see.

-

Laura Roslin had lost all patience with the man who was supposed to be helping her lead the Colonial Fleet to safety.

Commander William Adama was simply unbelievable. Irresponsible, undependable, and terribly frustrating.

Laura had been waiting for the day when she didn't have to deal with powerful, irresponsible, undependable and terribly frustrating men. Today, she contemplated giving up waiting.

"Billy, hear me out. Adama has mysteriously jumped ship."

Her assistant sat on the other side of her desk, leaning back in his chair, not nearly as disturbed as she thought he should be. Laura paced behind her desk, her hands on her hips.

" _After_ I asked him to take the Cylon detection test."

"It seems so."

Laura stopped pacing and looked straight at him. She had been trying to remain outwardly calm while inwardly enraged and it was more impossible every passing second. "So... so maybe he's gone to his Cylon friends and told them where we are. Has anyone thought of that, Billy?"

The look Billy gave her made her wonder, for a brief second, if she had gone off the deep end. She made a quick decision that no, she had not, and it was everyone else who was completely oblivious to the danger at hand. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep, shaking breath to calm herself.

"We're sitting ducks. It's not like Tigh is going to let us jump away without his beloved, albeit suspiciously and mysteriously _disappearing_ , Commander."

"All right, Madame President," Billy said, sitting up and leaning over to put his elbows on the desk. His bangs fell over his brow as he stared at her in all seriousness. "Hear me out."

She nodded for him to continue.

"Last thing Adama's going to do if he's a Cylon is jump away without telling anybody. If I were a Cylon—"

Laura gave him a pleading look, feeling instantly nauseated.

"I'm not! Okay, for the sake of the Gods." Billy tapped his fingers against the desk. "If I _were_ , I wouldn't want to do anything out of the ordinary. Nothing suspicious."

"Well, then, where did he go?"

"Nobody knows, but it doesn't matter."

Laura cursed the Lords of Kobol under her breath. "It doesn't _matter_? Nobody's commanding the Fleet!"

"Tigh is."

Laura let out an uproarious laugh, exacerbated by the stress she felt tightening every muscle in her body. She shook her head. "Nobody's commanding the Fleet."

Billy shrugged. "Fine. Nobody is. What're you gonna do?"

Laura looked at him, any frivolity immediately churning back into her seemingly never-ending sense of anxiety. "I guess we just wait and see who... or what... he brings back with him."

Smiling, Billy reached over and grabbed a metal teapot from a service tray someone had placed on her desk... sometime, she couldn't remember. "We wait. In the meantime, have some tea. Seriously, Madame President, take it easy."

She knew that Billy existed in part to take her mind off the fact that there would be no taking it easy for the rest of her life. But she would try, Gods be damned. She would try.

-

Despite Bill's reservations about bringing Ellen back to _Galactica_ , the way he saw Saul's face light up when he saw his wife was worth every bit of worry and every pain in the ass this was going to cause him.

"Looks like you're happy," Bill said as they stood outside Saul's hatch. Ellen had gone inside to do what she termed 'important planning.'

Saul chuckled. "Bill, I never thought I'd have her back." He put a hand on Bill's arm and lowered his voice. "We were on the outs right before the attacks. Things weren't good between us."

"I know." Bill had heard about it briefly from Ellen the last time he was on shore leave. All she had told him is that these problems were unrelated to him. He was willing to believe that for his own peace of mind.

"Now I feel like we've been given a second chance. And I'm not gonna frak it up this time." Saul's grip on Bill's arm tightened and Bill looked into the man's eyes. He seemed nearly desperate, lost in emotion. He realized Saul had something to prove to himself and to everyone else. He wanted to make things right.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. Takes two to tango," Bill said.

"Yeah, well. She certainly knows how to dance."

The obligatory conversation was becoming more awkward by the second. Bill shifted on his feet but never changed his expression. Now wasn't the time. "She does."

"Are you all right with it? With her being back?"

Bill was taken aback, his heart beating rapidly until Saul spoke. "Listen, I know she's not your favorite person. You two have something between you. Some kinda anger, something."

Bill laughed weakly. "Maybe we're just fighting for your affections, Saul."

Saul let out one of his mock-irritable growls and smacked him on the shoulder. "All I'm sayin' is, maybe she's changed. Hell, we've all changed since the attacks. Maybe give her another chance."

Bill couldn't deny the unsettling irony in Saul's statement. "I just hope she treats you right. And that you stay focused on what's important."

"Never let you down, Bill." There was a brief, detectable moment when Saul's happiness was crossed with a note of uncertainty which he quickly shrugged off. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got a date with my wife in the XO's quarters."

"Keep it down," Bill said, nudging his friend's shoulder.

"Tell _her_ that."  
  



	2. Games Adults Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_epics**](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/) ship swap exchange in order to fulfill [](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/profile)[**wishflsinfl**](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/)'s request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.

Ellen knew Bill Adama was an honest man. He was a loyal friend, like a rescued dog. A companion for life.

It's why he brought her back to Saul when Ellen was sure she was one of the last people Bill wanted to see pop into his life again.

Bill was the best kind of friend to have, except for the brief moments when he wasn't.

She used to think about it a lot, her mind whirring around the situation they'd fallen into on Caprica. Sometimes after Bill frakked her, in those quiet moments before she rolled over to leave, Ellen pondered why there were such opposing sides to this complicated man. Bill and Saul had been friends for as long as she could remember. They would do anything for each other and the paths of their lives seemed irrevocably intertwined. They'd climbed the proverbial ladder in the Fleet together and functioned so seamlessly that they almost seemed like the same man.

Maybe that is how she justified it—how she convinced herself it was okay to be having an affair with Bill, to lie to Saul about an outing.

It's not like it happened all the time. The fraks, they came and went, once a week, maybe a week off here or there. She never spent more than a few hours at his place. They never talked about it outside those walls. Maybe Bill thought it better that she was seeing him than some stranger or someone Saul didn't trust.

She didn't consider herself promiscuous. She couldn't explain why she kept this on, besides maybe she wanted a part of Saul's other life. Just to taste it, to feel it, to be a part of it, as warped as that might seem.

She wanted a piece of the great Bill Adama.

She didn't think Saul knew. She was so very good at tidying up loose ends, at concocting alibis and playing her part as a dutiful wife. Because she loved him—she truly did—and there was nothing she wanted more than the rest of her life with him. This was just an itch she needed to scratch. And most of the time Saul and Bill were on the ship together so it wasn't even an issue.

There were plenty of justifications.

But now, with all three of them on _Galactica_ , things would become more complicated. Saul and Bill would be together all the time, on the job all the time. She had Saul available whenever she wanted, not thousands of miles away. She didn't need someone to fill in the gaps.

Technically, she didn't need someone.

Even so, when they retired to Saul's quarters upon her arrival and she took Saul inside of her and heard him moan, a terribly satisfying sound a man makes when he's found something he loves that he thought he'd lost, a small part of her wondered when she would be able to slip away to Adama's quarters.

Just to tell him all the details, if he had an ear to listen.

-

Bill's habit was slipping into old habits, usually the bad ones. He couldn't shake them. They stuck to him like burrs in his coat, pricking him at the most inopportune moments.

Ellen was one of those; alcohol was another. Combining them both was always a recipe for madness. In the past, that was all they did. They'd get drunk and things would progress and nobody stopped them. All honor and vows of loyalty were left at the door.

He didn't do guilt and rarely battled regret, always making an excuse for their slip-ups after they happened but never swearing off them.

Fate was a weak excuse, especially given that he didn't believe in it. But maybe these things were meant to happen—these moments when he and Ellen ended up alone, when they ended up kissing and stripping each other and frakking. Always frantic, usually rougher than he intended. Maybe it was a way of keeping her from straying any further than she already was. It was a warped sense of justification that led him to believe that his best friend's wife cheating with him was a better kind of cheating than that done with complete strangers. And him being with her was certainly better than a random bar hookup... she reminded him of that enough.

He had a plethora of convenient excuses that he applied, like a bandage, whenever the reality of their affair rubbed him raw.

And what was at the crux of the entire situation is that it was obvious to anyone who knew Ellen and Saul that they belonged together. Somehow, despite their disagreements and toxic behavior around each other, there was something about them that worked. Bill had intervened in more than a few fights between them and they were usually both too drunk to remember it the next day. But he never suggested to either of them that they leave the other—that wasn't his place. He guessed he was just there as some kind of support.

He would talk and drink it out with Saul, and talk and frak it out with his wife.

Sometimes he wondered if Saul knew. It was hard to believe that he wouldn't care; Saul was usually a territorial son of a bitch. Maybe he trusted that Bill wasn't going to sweep Ellen off her feet. There was no way that would ever happen—she'd always go home to Saul. Bill wouldn't have it any other way.

The best part about this convenience was that it was convenient. After Carolanne he'd sworn off serious relationships because in the end, someone was always asking for more than he could give.

There had been more important things to focus on those days, like the slow, steady braking of his career and what he was going to do during his retirement.

He didn't need a woman in his life... merely a frak from time to time.

The end of the worlds had eliminated one of these bad habits from his life. With Ellen gone it was like he'd come clean, like he'd sobered up. And he was so busy trying to save humanity that frankly, he didn't have time for frakking even if he had a woman available.

And now Ellen was back and he knew what he had to do.

-

"Bill. It's so good to see you. Still such a shock, you know?"

Ellen walked into his quarters, giving the Marine at the door a sweet smile in passing. Bill had invited her to talk mere days after her arrival, tired of delaying the inevitable.

"Can I spin the wheel?"

"The... yeah." He left the doorway so she could close it and spin the hatch wheel. Of all things. He walked over to his desk and shuffled some papers, collecting his thoughts. She followed him and stood close to his back, so close he could feel the heat of her body.

"You wanted to talk?"

"I think we needed to talk." He dropped the pile of papers back on his desk and turned to her, leaning against the edge of his desk. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, tension temporarily relieved. "Things between us have been complicated in the past."

"Seemed pretty simple to me." She fiddled with the zipper on her pink jacket, keeping his gaze.

"All right, I'm going to lay it out for you here, Ellen. Right now, I've got a lot more important things to think about than sex."

She stepped closer and he felt a twinge of arousal at her body brushing up against him. "Bill," she said, putting her hand firmly on his chest, "you can't be on all the time."

He watched her expression change, well aware of that shift from kitten to vixen. He still found himself mesmerized by it. He was no dolt, but he was a man.

"Somebody has to be," he said quietly as she tilted her face to him, her mouth dangerously close to his.

"I think," she said, the breath of her words caressing his lips, "you need to stop thinking."

When she kissed him it was more slowly than he expected—a slowness he'd not experienced with her before. She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed into him. He relented to the nudge of her mouth and the tease of her tongue, his hands cupping the curves of her hips and bringing her closer, flush against his hardening cock. It felt good. Too good. Too wrong.

Lately all he did was curse his obligations.

"Okay." He pulled away from her kiss and ran his hand through his hair. She smiled, caressing his erection with her thigh, claiming her victory. "We can't do this, Ellen."

"Oh, we could," she murmured. "It'd be so easy. Unless you want me to put up a fight."

Another rub of her thigh made him gently push her away. She backed off with a predictably disapproving look.

"Aren't you the least bit thankful you were given another chance with Saul?"

"Of course I am." She crossed her arms. She always got defensive when it came to Saul and Bill knew it was a quick way to take her down.

"And you want to waste that chance on me?" He shifted against the desk, trying to make his cock less visible.

"There's no reason why it can't be the same."

"There is every reason why it can't be the same. Nothing's the same now. Nothing."

She tucked her hair behind her ear, letting her fingers linger on her neck. "What if I told you he's okay with it?"

He chuckled at that. "You'd be lying."

"Then what made it okay before?"

They'd never talked about what made it okay or not okay before; it just was. He had no answers for her, nor was he interested in searching for them. He was making this a part of their past.

"Maybe it was a mistake."

"Oh, that word." She shook her head. "That's a really good word. Easy to use. Wipes the slate clean, right?"

It was no surprise that his erection immediately dwindled at the tone of her voice, reminiscent of his ex-wife. It was better off that way anyway. "Nothing is going to happen between us now. The last thing I need to do is jeopardize this Fleet's unity by frakking my XO's wife." He paused, then went for the kill. "Now I need him more than I need you."

Rarely did he see her feelings hurt. The moment passed in seconds. "There'll come a day, Bill. There always does. But I'm not going to fight with you. I can easily get frakked somewhere else."

"Try your husband."

"Good, is he?"

Bill's eyes narrowed and he nodded toward the hatch. "I'm done. Let yourself out."

"Fine," she said, still lingering.

"You can spin the wheel."

"Bitch," she whispered, practically snarling.

She turned and left.

He thought it went rather well, considering.

-

Laura usually refused to second guess her leadership abilities. She'd learned that nobody was going to have faith in her unless her faith in herself was steadfast. Constantly proving this had been tiring with Richard, and it was proving to be exhausting with Adama.

But these visions she was having—the confusing wanderings of her mind, the terrifying hallucinations—maybe it was the chamalla. Maybe the cancer had traveled to her brain. Maybe stress was finally cracking her. It was, privately, debilitating and frightening.

Every time they appeared, it shook her faith in herself. For the first time, she was afraid that her ability to lead was going to be called into question and she wouldn't be able to defend it. If Adama found out about this he'd surely do everything in his power to have her replaced.

That couldn't happen. She would not let him do it. She may be hallucinating but still, she was the only rational head leading the Fleet.

She wouldn't give up her power to him.

One night she dreamed of a glistening lake, glimmering with the bodies of swirling eels, swarming around her, curling around her limbs until they pulled her into the deep. The feeling of drowning was painful, uncontrollable. She woke up with a start, covered in sweat, which was nothing particularly unusual except for the fact that she'd never died in a dream before.

That night, she decided to form the Quorum, if for nothing else, as a safety net if she kept gradually descending into this madness.

-

In a very short period of time, a lot of intriguing things had happened, and Ellen was able to have a spectator seat for quite the revolution.  
You'd think that with only forty thousand or so humans left in existence, everybody could figure out a way to get along a little better. But it was one of many human flaws she'd noticed over time.

If only there were a way to change it.

That Bill threw Laura in the brig was a fascinating turn of events. That Bill got shot was heartbreaking. That these events led to her husband taking over control of the Fleet in the interim was just a combination of coincidence and luck.

She couldn't call it that to Saul. She felt bad calling it 'luck' that Bill got shot. She didn't want him to die. Gods, no, he really did have a piece of her heart for everything they'd been through. And done to each other.

His momentary absence during his recovery merely gave Saul an opportunity to seize the day and show what a true leader he could be. And she would be at his side, of course. Without new shoes, but looking as fine as could be expected.

Saul had been understandably torn up about Bill's injury and came back from sickbay on orders from Cottle not to return to the public eye until he got his shit together.

Saul had wept in her arms and she'd held him, then given him a glass of ambrosia, then given him a blow job after he drank it. A really top-notch blow job. He seemed better after that.

She helped his cock back into his pants, zipping his zipper and then sliding into his lap. Saul put his arm around her, hugging her close with a satisfied growl.

"You feelin' better?"

He rested his head against her shoulder. "In a way, I guess."

She kissed the top of his head, then played with his ear. "I think if that Cylon hadn't shot him, Bill and the President would be shacking up soon."

"Wow." He looked up at her. "That was outta left field. I haveta say."

Maybe it was. But if there were one person who would know what's going on between Bill and anyone else, it would be Saul. Roslin seemed like a likely candidate as any at this point. She decided to press on.

"I'm just interested in the workings of people," she said. "You know, their relationships. What makes them happy, what doesn't."

"So you think... Roslin would make Bill happy? That's bullshit. He threw her in the frakkin' hole."

She sighed, putting her chin on top of his head. "Oh, Saul. It's obvious he's completely intimidated by her. And Bill loves intimidating women."

"This ship isn't a damned soap opera, you know."

Oh, if only he knew. He was so precious sometimes. She slid off of his lap, a bounce in her step. "Do you think they had sex in the brig?"

"Are you serious." His voice turned low, like when he's getting angry.

"Well, people do that, don't they?"

"Bill did not frak Roslin in the brig!"

Ellen threw her hands up in the air, her adrenaline pumping from pushing his buttons in just the right way. This was a game they played; at least, a game she played. "They keep that place video monitored, don't they? Shouldn't you check?"

He leaned back and grabbed his glass, coaxing the last drop out of the bottom with a shake. "If you're gonna frak someone in the brig you'd turn the surveillance off first."

She bit her lip, smiling. "This all makes me want to go down to the brig with you, baby."

"You can go, but you're goin' by yourself."

It was an excellent turn of events... exactly what she wanted him to say.

"Fine," Ellen said. "Maybe Roslin'll frak me down there like she frakked Bill."

There would be a lot of hate involved, but Ellen couldn't tell herself it wouldn't be fun.

"You shouldn't talk about the man like that. He's on his deathbed. Lords hope it doesn't come to that."

She bit back another sarcastic response when she saw how deeply troubled the idea was making her husband. She walked over to him and cupped his chin, looking into his eyes. "I know. All right? He's going to be fine. He's William Adama and he'll die when he wants to die."

"Stubborn old frak." Saul kissed her and she let her lips linger before she pulled away and grabbed her sweater from the table, shrugging it on.

"Where you going?"

She rolled her eyes. "Down to the brig, Saul."

He grunted, pushing himself up and padding toward the alcohol cart. "Don't get into any trouble."

She smiled, heading for the hatch. "Honey, you know me too well."

  



	3. Games Adults Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_epics**](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/) ship swap exchange in order to fulfill [](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/profile)[**wishflsinfl**](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/)'s request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.

_It's time to heal the wounds, Commander._

Bill was soon prescribing to the philosophy that you don't know what you've got until it's nearly gone.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened. He didn't wake up from the coma feeling desperate to see Roslin. Any affection for her wasn't a revelation made in a near-death fog and there was no ghostly apparition in the white light telling him to seek her out.

Frankly, when he woke up, all he felt was dull, deep pain in his chest and an even deeper sense of panic about what might have gone wrong after Boomer took him out. It was a nightmare, especially because Cottle wouldn't tell him shit about anything until he could sit up on his own.

And so he'd struggled, and he'd thought.

The last time he saw Roslin, he had her put in the brig. The hate he'd felt for her then had seared through him, filling him with rage. Her disrespect for his authority, her inability to understand that there was an order to things... that anger that had provoked him before he'd gotten shot didn't immediately subside the moment he woke up.

He was still angry, especially when upon his recovery he learned that she had disappeared—with Lee, no less—and that the religious bullshit she was forcing upon the Fleet was at an intolerable level.

No wonder Cottle had made him wait.

This split between him and Roslin never wider, it was Dee's rationale that he initially angrily rejected that made him finally settle. He'd rejected it because she was right and he wasn't ready to believe it. Up until this point he'd found it much easier to spar with Roslin than to come to agreement with her.

Dee reminded him of his promise to find Earth. He'd never been good at keeping promises, but he could change that this time. Prove himself this one time.

If only he knew where Earth was.

On Kobol, he saw Roslin for the first time since he put her in the brig. She seemed nearly feral there—her hair damp and unkempt, her body drowning in an oversized coat as her face expressed how overcome she was at seeing Billy, more reserved at seeing him. That being said, she nearly looked past them. It was obvious she was in pursuit of something greater.

Almost dying did that for him. Talking to Dee did that for him. He felt a purpose, that he needed to drive toward the goal of making sure life continued. And he realized that maybe she was making the same progression—the closer she got toward death, the more desperate she was to accomplish something, to seek out a purpose, to validate her existence.

He knew what that was like.

He couldn't deny what he had seen in what they described as the Tomb of Athena. He had seen the field and felt the breeze and smelled the grass. The Lagoon Nebula overhead, he realized that without Roslin leading them, pushing them, defying him, they never would have found this place or known its truth.

He'd looked at her awestruck under the stars and he began to believe in her.

Cottle had prohibited him from commandeering his own Raptor for the trip down to Kobol, so he'd been shamefully relegated to the back seat for the ride there and back up.

He was sitting in the jump seat waiting for departure and Laura climbed up the wing and ducked inside. She sat beside him and fastened her restraints, her thigh brushing and settling against his own.

"We do this together from now on," she said, not looking at him. "Are you on board with me, Bill?"

"Looks like I am," he replied as the hatch closed. She laughed softly and nudged him with her shoulder.

"I'm serious. Are we going to do this?"

He looked over at her, her smile making him smile in return.

"Together," he said. "To Earth. To the end."

Her smile softened and her lips pressed together. Then she nodded and turned to the canopy as the bird lifted off, her slender hands folded in her lap.

-

The road hadn't been easy since their return from Kobol. Laura found that opening up one box often revealed another, and another, puzzles and complications neverending. And now with the return of _Pegasus_ to the Fleet, she had never felt a more pressing need for more time. Time to fix things, time to make things right.

She was running out of time, always running out of time. She wanted to slow down the clock and find Earth before she passed on, but with every day it was looking less likely that she would lead them to this promised land.

 _Together. To Earth. To the end._

It was a heavy burden to bear, but she did it silently because it was her duty.

She hated that her body was deteriorating at the time the Fleet needed her the most. The disease was unrelenting. It didn't care what she wanted; it just took and took, ruthlessly, one healthy cell at a time. It was much like the Cylons, like she was fighting a fight inside and outside of her body.

She was exhausted in every way.

And then there was Bill, who was looking to her more for leadership and at times, seemed like he was looking to her for more than that. He'd changed since he was shot. Survival had done something to him, had changed the way he treated people and even the way he treated himself. Kobol had been common ground for them and it was the first time she'd felt they were truly together.

It had changed both of them.

He looked at her differently. He smiled at her more. She felt herself wanting his company and wanting other things, and she was equally grateful and saddened by his willingness to be at her side, even as she was ailing.

To be given another chance at life had to be something.

She, on the other hand, had to give up the idea that there would be a miracle, that Doc Cottle could remove what was killing her. It was too late for that. She wanted to enjoy these moments between her and Bill but every one of them was tainted with a reminder of what they wouldn't be able to have.

If only she had met him sooner; if only they weren't fighting for their lives every day. If only they could find Earth a little bit sooner, if only she had gotten her mammograms back on Caprica.

If only, if only.

There were times she felt too weak to get up but she did it anyway.

There were times breathing took so much effort and hurt so badly that she wanted to stop.

But Bill hadn't given up, and neither would she.

Laura had done a good job of ignoring the XO's wife since the dinner party the night of her arrival. Certainly she was around, plotting and scheming as it seemed her way to do things. Laura didn't trust her at all, not since she set foot on _Galactica_.

Her lack of trust was only strengthened after Bill was shot, and it became obvious even in her chamalla-withdrawn state that Ellen Tigh's M.O. was power—as much as she could get, as fast as she could get it.

She had dealt with these kinds of people all her life.

It had gotten to the point that they needed to have a conversation. Ever since her stint in the brig she knew Ellen's true capabilities as a manipulator, and the last thing she needed was a human in the Fleet conspiring against them. She'd had enough of that.

She called a meeting between them that she knew would be terse. Ellen offered to host it at the XO's quarters but Laura insisted on having it aboard _Colonial One_. Not only could she control the flow of alcohol there—of which there would be none—but she felt empowered on her own ship.

"Let's cut to the chase, Ellen," Laura said from behind her desk as the woman entered her office, more of a saunter, her eyes darting about. She didn't greet her formally. Currently, she didn't feel like she deserved the courtesy. "I know what you did to me in the brig."

"Well, hello to you too, Madame President," Ellen said, sitting down and crossing her legs primly in the chair in front of Laura's desk. "By the way, you were out of your mind. Completely frakked up." Ellen smiled then. "It was _amazing_ to see."

Her chamalla addiction and withdrawal were nothing she was proud of. She hadn't expected it to affect her quite as drastically as it did. It was a low moment, and one of those moments when a predator smells an injured animal and circles it, waiting. "And you tried to take advantage of it."

Ellen tilted her head, staring her down. "I'm of the opinion that our leaders shouldn't be disabled during times of conflict. So I tried to make sure we had somebody in charge who knew what day it was."

"Who you're also married to."

"Just happen to be."

"Who ended up with blood on his hands because he couldn't handle it."

"What is your point, Laura." Ellen's tone was regulated, but bitter.

Off kilter from Ellen's stripping her of her title, which nearly sent her over the edge, Laura took a deep, calming breath. The woman was ignorant and intentionally missing her point. "If there is one thing I'm sure of, it's that Bill Adama is meant to lead this Fleet. Not your husband, or you by proxy, thank the Gods."

"So that's why you called me here? To make sure we all play our roles?" Ellen uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "How's your part going, Dying Leader? Are we going to find Earth?"

This bitch played hardball. Laura knew the game.

Laura leaned in over her desk, leveling the playing field. "Why don't you leave the important decisions to me while you go play housewife."

"There are some benefits to playing housewife. Things I particularly enjoy."

Laura smirked with a laugh. "I'm sure you do."

"Maybe you should try it sometime." Ellen stood up and put her hands on her hips. Laura found her staging amusing, but also felt a surge of jealousy at her implications. "Maybe you just need to get frakked."

Laura shook her head, staring at her in disbelief. "Did you just tell me to _go get frakked_?"

"Why not? You know, Bill Adama's not half bad."

It was a quick punch to the gut and Laura attempted to look unfazed. "How the frak would you know?"

Ellen shrugged, a sly smile emerging. "I just know. Years of experience."

Laura studied her, unsure of whether to believe her or not. The idea of Bill touching this woman honestly blew her mind, especially since she was married to his XO. It made no sense. Certainly he wouldn't lack that judgment. "Maybe you should get back to _Galactica_. I'd hate to keep you from your particular enjoyments."

"You don't know people like you think you do, Laura."

Laura leaned back in her chair. "Oh, likewise. I'm sure."

Ellen was right and it left her unsettled.

-

Sometimes when Bill stroked himself...

  
Sometimes when Laura touched herself...

  
... he thought about her. Sometimes he started out thinking about her, sometimes his thoughts wandered over to her legs in her pencil skirts or how her hair would look spread across his pillow.

  
... she thought about him. She felt guilty about it at first, because the last thing she needed to do was picture him naked, but then again, some days it was the only thing she wanted to do.

  
He ran his hand up his cock, palming it, groaning at the thought of her unbuttoning her pink dress shirt, one agonizing button at a time. Sometimes she would look at him angrily, like he'd just done something wrong. Sometimes she looked at him like she loved him, like she was revealing herself to him for the first time.

  
She pressed her fingers against her clit, coaxing it to arousal with her fingertips. She wanted him out of his uniform—she wanted to feel the muscles of his arms flexing under her hands and kiss his objections right off of his lips. Sometimes he was aggressive, pushing her against his desk roughly, forcing her ass up and tearing off her panties. Sometimes he was slow, leading her to his rack, letting her remove his glasses and his clothes.

  
Sometimes she wore heels, sometimes she kept them on the whole time.

  
Sometimes she grabbed his tanks in her teeth and cried out against them when he entered her.

  
He stroked himself, movements jerky, fingers curled tightly, knowing she'd be tight and wet. Sometimes he could practically taste her on his tongue already. He wanted her all over his mouth; he wanted his tongue buried deep and her legs spread wide and he wanted her losing it, crying out, clawing at the sheets.

  
She frakked herself with her fingers, two then three, knowing he'd be thick and frak her hard. Sometimes he took her from behind, owning her, bruising her hips with his fingers and making her sweat against his sheets. She wanted his chest against her back; she wanted his breath on her ear and she wanted him to make her wait before he let her come.

Suddenly, this time, she wondered if he'd ever frakked Ellen that way.

-

Sometimes when he came he said her name, knowing no one could hear him.

  
This time, she didn't come, merely groaned in frustration and curled up in her makeshift bed.

-

Ellen had always had a self-professed intuitive sense about people—their wants, their needs, their desires, no matter how hidden. She couldn't explain it, though at times it approached something she'd best describe as clairvoyance.

She sensed Bill had a growing affection toward Laura. Something seemed to have happened when he went down to Kobol to find her, which Ellen found to be terribly romantic and totally uncharacteristic of him. When they came back and he led that slow clap for her, which even for Bill was over the top, Ellen noticed they started to treat each other differently.

So of course, she began her own reconnaissance mission, as she had nothing better to do. A few times in the CIC, Bill and Laura would glance at each other over a paper exchange and their hands would linger. In the hallways when walking, she occasionally observed how he'd walk closer to Laura and once, how he brushed his hand against her lower back.

There was more respect there. Maybe there was more there.

Then Ellen stopped seeing her around. She guessed the President had taken a turn for the worse in regard to her illness. Bill would go visit her and return with a haunted look.

Ellen wondered if they'd ever gotten to frak.

It was tragic.

Bill wasn't the kind to confess anything to anyone, but Ellen also knew that the man had to have a need to discuss what was going on with him and this woman in his life who was about to die.

She could see the disease eating away at him just as it was Laura, turning light into dark and turning hope into hopelessness. It was dangerous, love—she often felt it with Saul. When one of them went into the tailspin it was awfully hard not to follow.

Ellen had different reasons for wanting Bill to confide in her—first, of course, she considered Bill a dear friend, an extremely close one at times, no matter how much they disagreed on certain arrangements. She cared about his well-being and wanted the best for him, no matter what that was. But she had to admit that the whole storyline of this relationship between the Admiral and the soon-to-be-ex President was compelling and intriguing. She wanted to know more. She considered it very human of her to want this. It was like the proverbial train wreck—she just couldn't look away.

She showed up at Bill's quarters one day while Saul was on duty. He'd come to the hatch in an oversized brown robe and given her a wary look. He looked like hell. There were certainly plenty of things to be upset about, not the least of which being Roslin.

"I'm not here to frak," she whispered.

"For frak's sake." He grunted and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her inside the hatch.

He walked away and she closed the door, spinning the wheel. He plopped down on the couch and rolled his head back. She noted his tumbler on the table, a quarter full of alcohol. She resisted the urge to finish it off for him. "What is it, Ellen?"

She toed off her heels and padded toward him, reminded that the carpet in the Admiral's quarters was much thicker than in the XO's. "Just checking on you. You know. Seeing how you are."

He hummed disapprovingly. "Saul send you?"

"No." She sat down next to him and put her head back as well. "I do genuinely care for people, you know. Sometimes."

"I know." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sorry if I've been a dick lately. Things have been... difficult."

"You're only a man, Adama. You can only take so much."

They were silent and Ellen reached over to run her fingers through the back of his hair. It was completely asexual, a more intimate touch than she was used to with him. He relaxed a bit into the stroke of her hand.

"So... what's up with you and Roslin, anyway?"

He looked at her out of the corner of one squinted eye. "Who are you, my confidant?"

"I could be. Lords know you could use one."

He stretched his hands out on his lap, his fingers rubbing against the thick terrycloth. She gently massaged his neck, watching him struggle with his coming words.

"You always say you're meant to be with Saul."

"I do. And I usually mean it. 'Cept when he's a jackass."

He didn't smile. "Maybe I'm meant to be with her."

"Until she dies. Then what?"

She had to say it. Bill had a tendency to treat reality a bit fantastically, denying it until it smacked him right in the face. Sometimes even then. "Everybody dies, Ellen."

"Yes." She chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Some a little sooner than others."

He finally turned his face to look at her. "So you think that love should end at death?"

It was an unexpected question, one which she felt uneasy answering for certain. "Some things are timeless, ageless. If you want me to be honest, Bill... if you're already in love with her, there's nothing you can do. You can't control it. You just go with it."

"I didn't say I was in love with her."

Ellen shook her head and grinned. Pathetic. "Yeah?"

"But I kissed her."

And then shock. "When?"

He looked away, putting his hands behind his head with a drawn-out sigh. She moved her hand, reclining into his couch again. "When she gave me those Admiral pips."

Ellen felt like there was more he wanted to say, but maybe those words weren't meant for her.

"Seeing as she could barely hold herself upright, I think any other gestures toward her would have been uncouth."

She nodded, not looking to him, giving him his space to think. "If that's all you ever have... will you be okay with that?"

"We have more than that. It's always been more than that."

"I know the feeling."

The wireless buzzed and Bill rose, moving quickly to reach it. She heard his low murmuring, then watched him begin to yank on his boots.

"They're transferring Laura over here," he said.

"She's bad?"

"She's bad." He grunted as he tied his last shoelace. "I knew it would happen. Death never waits."  
  



	4. Games Adults Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_epics**](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/) ship swap exchange in order to fulfill [](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/profile)[**wishflsinfl**](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/)'s request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.

Bill made a selfish decision. What might have killed her might also have saved her. There was a chance to keep Laura in his life—to keep her in the Fleet—and he took it.

 _Roll the hard six, Bill, just do it. Frak it._

He had never felt thankful for Gaius Baltar, and this would probably be the only time he did, but this day, the infuriatingly bumbling doctor had justified his existence.

It seemed the Cylon child's blood had curative properties and, when properly applied, could cure cancer. He wasn't into calling miracles, but seeing Laura's heart monitor go from a flatline to a beep was one of the defining moments of his life, no matter how it came about.

He had to be there when she woke up. Saul covered for him in the CIC as he watched over her, rubbing his thumb across her hand and listening to the calming track of her pulse. He began to doze off, his head nodding to the beat of it. He was in need of rest, but weren't they all.

He felt the twitch of her arm as she began to wake up, her eyelids fluttering before she opened them. Her blank expression turned into one of confusion, her face still ashen.

"Are you dead?" Her voice was hoarse, faint, but to his relief, she didn't wheeze afterward. "Bill... I—"

"Sssh, it's okay," he said, kissing her hand. "I'm alive. You're alive."

"I'm not..." She licked her dry lips, blinking. "I'm not supposed to be."

"Maybe you are," he murmured against her skin.

The corner of her mouth turned upward and she fell back asleep with a deep, contented breath.

-

 _Life is about choices. Every choice you make has an impact._

 _Bill chose to allow the stem cell transfer and I lived._

 _Billy chose to protect Dee and he died._

 _I chose to sleep with Gaius and then he challenged me._

 _I chose to ban abortion, despite my beliefs._

 _I chose to hide Hera and cause a mother's anguish._

 _I chose to let Tory try to steal this election out of fear and out of pride._

 _He chose to let me live._

 _I chose to lie. I chose to cheat._

 _Life is about choices, whether they're wrong or right._

Laura folded the paper and put it in the small wooden box in her desk.

There were times she wondered whether Bill had done the right thing by saving her. Some days looking into his eyes and wondering what was in store for them wasn't enough to make her glad to be alive. Because those hopeful moments were few and drowned out by doubt, every consequence of her last decisions forming a roughened pit inside her.

It was growing in the place of her tumor, which had stilled. It wasn't killing her body—its target was her spirit. It grew every time she spoke to him on the phone. It grew every time she looked at him, every time anyone asked her in earnest how the election was going.

It didn’t matter how it was going. The ending had already been written.

She had started on a treacherous course of events and the idea of hiding anything from him now reminded her of their past, veined with distrust and pulsing with the liquid fire of anger.

And yet, he couldn't know.

She yearned to regain her ability to guiltlessly harbor sweet little lies.

-

Ellen was beginning to admire Roslin for her gall. She'd never known anyone who came back from the brink of death with as much determination as she did. She'd heard that near-death experiences often changed people for the better. But she'd been surprised when Saul told her about Foster's plan to rig the election. He called it the "alternative victory plan" and refused to see it as actually cheating.

Cheating is never cheating if you're doing the right thing. He said it, not her.

She kept her opinions to herself about the vote rigging because she actually preferred Roslin as president over Baltar. There was something about Baltar that she found completely detestable and untrustworthy. She knew well the difference between an honest person and a dishonest one. Baltar, with his grandiose promises and shifty, reddened eyes, was the latter.

It's why Roslin's plan to cheat her way through the popular vote threw her for a loop. She had to be desperate, knowing that Baltar had the leadership capabilities of a blowfish. She wouldn't want the fate of her precious civilians to fall into his incapable hands. But as frakked up as he was, colonization was tempting. Nearly tempting enough to sway Ellen's own vote.

Feet on solid ground, a home with Saul, breathing fresh air... it sounded like a dream. And Ellen would bet anyone with ten cubits in his pocket that this dream was Roslin's nightmare. It was what was selling Baltar, inching his numbers up in the polls.

It had driven the President to the faux comfort of dishonesty, the one Gaius knew so well.

Saul's stance was surprisingly with Roslin, believing that the Cylons could easily find them and that they needed to proceed with caution before settling on the planet.

He'd never been a religious man, but Ellen wondered if Roslin had him swept up in her whole Earth fantasy. Ellen didn't believe it, not one bit.

Besides, their leader wasn't dying any more.

What an interesting coincidence that she saw the incumbent at the voting booth, casting her ballot on Election Day. Ellen couldn't resist the urge to sneak a look at the paper clutched in the President's hand. Laura noticed right away and folded the ballot in half.

"No cheating," Laura said with a soft smile.

"Oh, you are precious."

Laura's smile disappeared.

-

The results were slowly rolling in and Bill found it hard to pay attention to anything else going on in the CIC. He looked around and noticed everyone around him seemed distracted as well, whispering to each other, and he knew that some of those headsets had to be tuned in to the wireless broadcast of the election coverage.

It was good to see the kids excited about something.

Bill was nervous and excited, excited and nervous, not sure which emotion was ahead in the game. He had all the faith in Laura a person could have. Every day, at least once, he had found himself hoping that the people wouldn't take the easy way out and vote for Baltar. It was a hard sell. He knew how everyone was desperate for a place to land. Even his feet, experienced in flight for months at a time, longed to touch solid ground.

He wasn't sure what he would do if Baltar was elected. The idea of working with that son of a bitch was one he only had quickly considered, because it entirely disgusted him. He shelved the notion whenever it came into his head, but not without retreading the endlessly depressing thought that he was in no position to retire, no matter how atrocious the situation was at hand.

But he wasn't going to win. Roslin was still ahead in the polls.

He had to place his trust in the people like he'd placed it in her.

-

Gaius Baltar was President of the Twelve Colonies. Gods help them all.

Laura couldn't look at Bill during the inauguration. The disappointment evident in him when he made her admit to stealing the election was too much to bear and she couldn't see it again.

When he had sat before her, walls broken down and emotions running high, she saw something else in this man's weary eyes that told her that he wished he could do this with her—accept the fraud, let her win, do the wrong thing but the right thing just this one time.

But she knew one stark difference between her and Bill is that he was honest to the core.

She wasn't. And for that, in the moment he convinced her to correct what she'd done, she felt ashamed.

Everything felt wrong. Having Bill tell Gaius he'd won felt wrong. Standing in front of the crowd bearing witness to his succession felt wrong. Bill standing by her side, ever loyal, felt wrong. Everything continued to feel wrong, especially when the climax of the post-inaugural celebration was _Cloud 9_ getting nuked.

He certainly came in with a frakkin' bang.

And then she needed out, needed out as quickly as possible. The remodel of _Colonial One_ was obviously one of Gaius's first priorities, one final way to stick it to her. Tory, her guilt palpable, had arranged the transfer of her belongings.

She couldn't do it herself.

She left her ship—what used to be her ship—and went, tail between legs, to the only place she could fathom. Maybe there was something there for her.

At Adama's door the Marine looked at her, his expression changing when he realized she was no longer President and could no longer command him to open the door. But there was a flicker of sympathy in his gaze, and this Marine simply stepped away from the hatch, silently allowing her entrance.

Laura opened the door, its slight squeak predictable but always a bit jarring.

Inside, she saw Bill and Ellen sitting on his couch. Ellen was draped over the arm, her feet planted in Bill's lap. Maybe Ellen wasn't kidding after all when she implied they'd been frakking.

It would figure. All this time she'd spent waiting on him while he was off frakking a married woman. She couldn't deny the sense of universal retribution that settled deep into her stomach.

The Marine closed the hatch behind her as she was too absentminded to do it herself. She made a beeline for the liquor cabinet, where a bottle of Aerilon whiskey stood half empty, golden drops of it dotting the fine wood.

"One of those days, wasn't it?" Ellen said, oozing sympathy.

"Where's your husband?" Laura snapped back, pouring herself what she could describe as an Adama-sized serving of whiskey and taking a sufficient gulp. It burned, nearly overwhelmed her. She'd grow accustomed to it.

"CIC," Bill replied. "Least drunk of us got this shift."

"Gods." Laura took another swig. "That certainly makes me feel better. Shouldn't you be up there? How many people died when that nuke went off, Bill? A couple thousand? More? I'd figure it out, but..." She drank again, shaken. "Baltar tossed my whiteboard. Right in front of me. Frakkin' asshole."

"I guess. Probably." There wasn't a note of sympathy in his voice and she looked at him incredulously.

"Aren't we in some sort of emergency state?"

"Apparently not." He took a long draw on his glass, emptying it. "According to the President, we're gonna stay right here. Stand our ground."

"Colonize." All joy ever associated with the word in the past had been completely drained from it.

"I'm kind of excited about it, really," Ellen said. "It'll be nice to have a place to call home."

Laura stared at her, fighting the urge to throw her drink in the woman's face. It would be a waste of precious alcohol. She finished it off instead.

"Sure. All we've got is time." Laura refilled her glass, ignoring the fact that all eyes were on her. Judgment be damned, she was going to drink this problem away. Seemed to be a Fleet pastime and it was well past her turn.

"Baltar's sent the first reconnaissance crews down to the surface."

"Bill..." Laura gripped her glass tightly. "I don't want to hear another word about it."

The three were quiet until the couch squeaked under Ellen's form as she got up and walked to the liquor cabinet with her glass. "Nothing to talk about, then," she said as she poured another drink.

"Top me off?" Laura held her glass out and Ellen arched an eyebrow, then gave her a smarmy smile as she fulfilled the request.

"I'm no barmaid." Ellen placed the bottle back down on the countertop.

"What are you, then?"

Ellen sipped her drink. "The XO's wife, for one."

Laura's gaze flickered to Bill, then back to Ellen. "Take your vows seriously, do you?"

Ellen's gaze turned into a steely glare. Laura steadily looked back at her, so close their glasses nearly clinked together. Ellen leaned in and Laura felt her breath on her ear.

"At least I've got a title."

Ellen's lips grazed her earlobe and Laura's breath caught in her throat, a sharp pang of rage mixed with the warmth of the liquor and a tingle at the sensation of this sudden, intrusive touch. Ellen didn't pull away, her lips lightly touching Laura's ear. "It could be convenient, being a civilian again, don't you think?"

Laura felt her throat turn thick with emotion and she clenched her jaw. Ellen moved her head away, keeping her body close.

"You didn't come here to talk." Ellen put her glass down, her voice nearly hypnotic. Laura blinked, her chest aching. Ellen's hand reached up and stroked her cheek, then cupped it as she leaned in and kissed her gently, her lips still.

Laura's mind raced, objections firing off in every corner of her mind. And yet, she didn't move.

"I didn't come here for this," Laura whispered when Ellen's lips left hers. She looked at Adama who was still sitting on his couch, his legs askew. She felt a rush of arousal, unexpectedly strong.

Ellen kissed her again and Laura kept her eyes on Bill. He shifted on the couch as their lips pressed together, watching them intently. Laura moved her mouth, inciting Ellen to do the same.

Laura placed her glass down on the countertop with a shaking hand and closed her eyes as Ellen's fingers tangled in the back of her hair. Laura felt her own body amping up, a soothing effect of the alcohol running through her blood. She kissed Ellen back, this time with tongue.

If he wanted a show, well frak it. She had nothing to lose now. She wasn't the President, wasn't the loose little Secretary of Education, wasn't even a teacher who frakked her old students when she was hard up for a lay.

She was nothing.

Maybe this was what freedom felt like.

Laura whimpered softly against Ellen's mouth as she pressed her body closer, her slender hands sliding around Laura's waist.

"I haven't kissed a woman in so long." Ellen's voice was low, like it was a secret between them.

Laura felt her body throbbing. She looked over at Bill and blushed to see the evidence of his arousal tenting the front of his trousers.

She heard Ellen laugh, felt her chest shaking against her own. "Bill, get over here."

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving Laura's. "You're frakkin' crazy."

Laura took a deep breath. "Get over here," she said, her voice wavering.

Bill's eyes narrowed and that instant she knew she had crossed a line. They were out of control. Everything was out of control and ridiculous and terribly wrong. Embarrassment washed over her—what a letch she was. How quickly she'd managed to fall from the high esteem he held her in before, that place she'd worked so hard to earn. Her honor kept falling, dominoes at the end of her line.

She kept swearing off this habit, this tendency to frak her pain away and it never seemed to work. But it kept happening.

She pulled away from Ellen and turned to eye the hatch. "I'm sorry, Admiral. I'm going to go. Somewhere."

"Suit yourself," Ellen said behind her. Laura felt too ashamed to look back, too confused to meet Adama's eyes before she walked away.

She felt him before she heard him, gasping at the sudden clutch of his hands upon her hipbones. His footsteps had been whisper quiet across the ornate carpeting.

"I want you to stay." Bill's voice was low and gruff and against her hair. She could feel its warmth. "You decide. But know that I want you to stay."

His fingers firmly pressed into her abdomen made her sway. The times she'd imagined him touching her this way were far from this moment. But she felt it all: the buzz of electric and the buzz of the alcohol and the intoxicating rush of his body brushing against her back.

"If you want me to, I will."  
  



	5. Games Adults Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_epics**](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/) ship swap exchange in order to fulfill [](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/profile)[**wishflsinfl**](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/)'s request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.

When Ellen heard about _Cloud 9_ being nuked, the first thing she wanted to do was find Bill. She knew he'd be a wreck and that he'd probably lost a part of himself when that bomb went off.

And, as he didn't have anyone else to turn to, she had hoped he would be willing to turn to her for comfort.

Comfort in whatever form he preferred.

She told herself if something happened, and it happened to meet a certain need he had and a different need she had, well... she could convince herself that there wasn't anything wrong with that. It would be just like old times, just this one time.

And then Laura walked in on them drinking and it was like a blessed gift from the Gods. Now it could feel like she was doing Bill a favor. In fact, despite the twinge of jealousy she felt at Bill being in love with Laura, she was impressed at her quick elevation to governmental wingman status.

Bill and Laura were pretty hopeless when it came to hooking up. But the woman had nearly died and now seemed healthier than ever—besides the touch of depression she was feeling about her election loss. It was often moments like this that made for the greatest success when it came to decisions to throw caution into the wind. Nothing like hopelessness and alcohol to kick start things.

So she was impressed when Bill moved more quickly than she'd ever seen to stop Laura from leaving. She was equally impressed when Laura said she'd stay.

This was exactly what all of them needed.

And then there was an awkward moment in which she felt she should probably leave, but as she watched Bill move Laura's hair aside and gently kiss her neck, Ellen decided there was no way in hell she was going to go.

If the only way to get to Bill was by going through Laura, then she was going to do it.

Ellen walked up to Laura, whose eyes were closed as Bill's hands moved up her sides and back down over her hips. Ellen cupped Laura's face and kissed her again. This time, Laura responded eagerly, much to Ellen's surprise. Her tongue gently darted in and out of Ellen's mouth, then her hands slipped into Ellen's hair, pulling her closer.

Ellen looked to Bill and met his eyes as he planted a final kiss on Laura's neck. He lifted his head and slowly stroked Laura's side. Ellen moved her hands to a button on Laura's suit jacket and plucked it open, causing Laura to open her eyes. She kept Ellen's gaze as she undid each of them. Bill pushed her jacket off her shoulders and it dropped to the floor.

A little teamwork would get the job done.

Ellen hadn't felt a specifically sexual attraction to Laura before—she found the woman attractive, but she certainly didn't spend nights lusting after her or even fantasizing about her, unlike Bill certainly did. But there was something that attracted her to this situation now. Ellen chalked it up to curiosity and to the idea that she could frak yet another President. Okay, former President this time. But there was an air of pretentious regality that hadn't worn off Laura yet and Ellen wanted to be the first to strip her down to her barest.

That part was sexy. And to give Laura credit, she was pretty easy on the eyes.

Then there was the tiniest part of her that got aroused from the idea of making Bill jealous.

She ran her fingers along Laura's waistband, then slid her hand beneath it, causing Laura to shift on her feet. The waistband was tight against her forearm but she kissed Laura again while her hand sought, and found, the apex of Laura's thighs and cupped her forcefully, making her gasp.

"Yeah," Ellen whispered against their kiss as Laura's eyes searched hers. "Do you really think you're ready for this, Laura?"

A spark of determination flickered across the woman's face. "I've done this before."

Secrets best kept. It was a stretch to get her fingers twisted into the fabric covering Laura's crotch, but she did it, pushing it aside and feeling her fingertips instantly wet. "You seem to like it."

Bill groaned about that one. Hearing him reminded her that he was still there and listlessly caressing Laura's hip. She looked over Laura's shoulder. "You could at least help me out here. Like get her skirt off for me."

Laura laughed then, a bit of a sputter. "This is ludicrous. What are we doing?"

"It's been that long?" Ellen felt herself smirk, warmth radiating through her abdomen as she withdrew her hand. "His rack's right over there. We could get comfortable. I'll take it easy on you."

Laura pushed past her, their shoulders brushing. She turned to watch Laura unzip her skirt and step out of it. With her back still turned to them, she removed her blouse and unsnapped her bra, tossing it to the floor.

"Thank Zeus," Bill whispered.

"Should be thanking me." Ellen followed Laura and stepped close to her back, hooking her thumbs in Laura's panties and sliding them down her legs. Her very, very long legs. And with the former President completely naked in front of her and Bill and both of them completely clothed, Ellen felt a little more in her element. She'd show Bill what he'd been missing.

"Get on the bed," she murmured against Laura's hair. "I want to frak you in front of him. He'll love it."

-

He was immeasurably hard and drunk and felt like this was all either a terrible nightmare or a dream come true. It was probably an ill-conceived combination of both. The first thing he wanted to see was Laura naked but the last thing he expected was watching her crawl onto the rack in front of Ellen Tigh.

It wasn't what he'd expected, or really wanted, but it was what was happening and he wasn't going to stop it. He knew no man in the Fleet who would.

It was the best distraction he could imagine, nukes and newly elected bastards be damned.

Ellen took her time removing her skirt and her blouse, making a show for both him and Laura, making them wait. Bill's eyes kept straying to Laura as she sat up against the bulkhead, folding her glasses and putting them on his bookshelf. She bent her knees to her chest and watched Ellen take off her clothes. The curve of the side of Laura's breast—that alone was making him want to forgo Ellen and touch her. But he waited because he wanted to see who would make the next move.

When Ellen had stripped down to her panties, she shot a smile at him before slipping onto the sheets and running her hands up Laura's legs, cupping her knees with her palms. Laura kept her eyes on Ellen, something Bill thought looked like a tolerant gaze. Was she just humoring her?

"Bill, I want to show you something." Ellen pushed Laura's knees apart. Laura's feet slid downward on the bed as she spread her legs. Laura looked at him and he couldn't stop himself from pressing his palm against his cock, which had been begging for attention for minutes. Air hissed through his teeth at the radiating pleasure he felt as he stroked himself through his pants.

He was so busy looking at Laura that he hadn't noticed Ellen lower herself between Laura's legs, but Laura's whimper when Ellen's face disappeared between her thighs made his cock surge again. He felt a mix of emotions swell within him—jealousy and arousal, anger and hurt pride. Laura turned her face away and one of her hands slid over Ellen's hair. Then he heard her softly moan, her head tilted back, and he nearly blew his load.

"Frak," he growled, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. He let them fall and stepped out of them while yanking his cock up over the waistband of his boxer briefs. He gripped the heated, hardened flesh and gave it a merciless tug, and then another, then watched as Laura's hips began to writhe in a beautiful rhythm. He heard Ellen's muted groans and Laura's answering whimpers.

It was too much to bear for any man. Ellen was doing this on purpose, to get him to act, to get him enraged as she frakked the woman he'd wanted for months right in front of him.

She always played these games, jerking him around. But she wouldn't win this time.

Bill walked up to the rack and Ellen, sensing his presence, lifted her head and looked over to him. Her chin was glistening and she gave it a lascivious wipe with the back of her hand. The gesture sent a jolt of anger through him.

"Rack's kinda small," Ellen said, licking her lips. "Probably not enough room for three."

Bill yanked his tanks up over his head and tossed them aside, then leaned down and grabbed Ellen's chin. He saw Laura watching out of the corner of his eye as he kissed Ellen hard, pushing his tongue into her mouth and holding back the groan in his chest at tasting Laura for the first time. He savored it and then pulled away, licking Ellen's lip once and then looking into Laura's eyes.

"There's enough," he said.

-

Laura's heart was beating in time with the throb between her legs and when Bill kissed her taste off of Ellen's lips, she almost felt faint. She watched Bill climb into the rack behind Ellen and grab her hips forcefully, pulling Ellen back toward him as he steadied himself.

"Gods," she whispered.

Bill yanked Ellen's panties down to her knees, then tangled a hand in her hair, fingers twisting until Ellen gasped. Laura saw Ellen's expression change at Bill's grunt that Laura knew had to mean that he'd just slid inside of her.

Laura's mouth hung open, eyes wide, as she tried to catch her breath. Ellen looked at her and a smile quirked her lips until Bill thrust into her hard.

And then he didn't stop.

Laura lay in front of them, still up against the bulkhead with her legs spread, the air cold against the slickness that Ellen had left behind. She looked up at Bill. It was almost like he had been waiting for her to catch his eye and he thrust into Ellen once, harder, and made a noise that sent Laura's hand between her legs, quickly and out of sheer desperation.

"Yeah," Bill muttered, giving her a nod. She bit her lip and spread herself out with her fingers, baring herself to him before dipping fingertips into her wet heat and dragging them up around her clit.

Everything was throbbing; everything was too much. She was overstimulated, almost to the point of pain, but she couldn't stop and didn't want to stop as he kept staring straight at her. She rubbed herself hard with two fingers and began moaning at him, keeping his gaze, trying to match the rhythm of her hips with the rhythm of his thrusts into the other woman.

"Frak, Bill," Ellen said through clenched teeth.

Laura's eyes didn't leave his.

"Do it." Bill ground himself into Ellen and Laura slid her fingers down and pushed two inside, palming her clit and starting to frak herself hard. This was a rhythm they could keep together. Laura felt her hand grow wet as her body began to soar. Ellen was crying out with every thrust now, the slap of flesh on flesh loud and clear. Laura whimpered at him, begging for her release. She watched his nose wrinkle and upper lip curl and knew he had to be close to coming.

She was, too, the tingling build deep in her groin encouraging her to rub harder, to frak herself harder, but it was the sound of him coming that made her body arch up and react, her orgasm hitting her hard a few moments afterward.

She kept her eyes closed as she let her legs slide lower, at ease. She heard Ellen coming and knew, was completely positive, that the woman was faking it. Had to be.

"Sweet asses of Kobol," Ellen said, her voice husky. "Bill, you never fail to impress me, but this?"

"No," Bill said, the sound of his voice sending a tingle through Laura once again. "No commentary."

Laura hadn't meant to smile, but she did.

She felt shifting on the bed and watched Bill get up, his back turned to them. "Don't you think you should get back to your own rack?"

Laura felt instantly hurt. "I—"

"Of course," Ellen said, giving Laura a pat on her knee before standing up as well. "We're not all that into conversation," she added over her shoulder to Laura as she began to get dressed.

Laura slowly bunched his sheet up around her chest as she watched Bill walk into the head. Part of her longed to go with him but didn't want to be followed. The other part of her didn't know what he truly wanted. Maybe he wanted the both of them to leave.

Ellen finished dressing and turned to Laura, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. "I'm sure Bill's okay with you sticking around for a minute," she said. "We know you don't have anywhere else to go. Unless you've got a room arranged."

"No," Laura whispered.

"It must be so hard." Ellen smiled, then walked over and kissed the top of her head, her lips lingering. Laura set her jaw and didn't move. "Take a few to figure out the rest of your life, okay?"

She walked out the door like a victor.

-

Bill brushed his teeth, unable to make out the words that were being spoken outside the head. He was still reeling from his orgasm, but he'd felt an urgent need to leave the room, to leave Ellen and her smug voice and smile behind him.

He didn't need it.

He started the water and stepped into it, letting it run over his face and body for a few moments before soaping up, starting with his sagging cock. Closing his eyes, he pictured Laura touching herself and coming in front of him, just as beautiful as he'd always imagined, but there was a wrongness about it.

Of course, the wrongness was Ellen. As usual, she was the wrench. As usual, she enjoyed it.

He'd let her reel him in, reel both of them in, and it may have been regrettable in some ways, but he had to let it pass.

He made the choice and he would live with it, even if it meant losing Laura's respect.

Bill sensed movement in the head while he was rinsing the soap from his body. His eyes snapped open, his body instinctively at alert.

Laura slipped into the shower, her profile lowered, her hair a tousled mess. One long leg, then the other, until she stood in front of him, looking intently into his eyes.

He felt completely exposed to her, more so than in the moments before, and it unsettled him. He took a shaky breath, at a loss for words.

She stepped forward, raising her hands, palms outward. An uncertain look crossed her face when he didn't move at first. He perused her fingers, delicate and thin, an ever-present silver bracelet having slipped down from her wrist. He pressed his palms against hers, one and then the other, the strange intimacy of the gesture inexplicably making him emotional.

There was a moment of hesitation before she leaned in to kiss his chest, the spot where the garish scar bisecting his chest began, her lips unmoving. He heard her barely audible sigh above the sound of water falling around them. Then she pressed their cheeks together and curled her fingers between his. He did the same.

It was then the loss hit him, sobered by this moment, and his knees weakened. So much death, so many lives torn apart, the Fleet in chaos, Baltar. His typical reactions to loss—anger, aggression, flashpoint decisions without consideration for the consequences—what had just happened... everything hit at once.

She was so quiet, her nude body against him, her breath caressing his ear.

He felt tears begin to fall. He wanted to tell her so many things, to apologize to her for what had happened. The mindless, drunk sex, the nuke, maybe even for making her admit to her guilt in the election rigging. Even for not making love to her yet. He didn't know where to begin.

His chest shook when it became too much to contain, and he heard her shushing him, her fingers gripping his shaking hands. The water streamed over their bodies.

Maybe it would cleanse them. Maybe it wasn't too much to ask.

She pulled away and kissed his knuckles, the ends of her hair wetly clinging to her shoulders. She reached behind him with her other hand and turned the water off, then led him out of the shower. He retrieved a towel from the bar and dried her off, feeling the tone of her muscle and the soft spots of her body under the terrycloth. She took the towel and did the same for him, from head to toe, wordlessly until their eyes met. Tossing the towel aside, she led him out of the bathroom and to the foot of his rack.

Their kiss was soft and slow; it was their first of the evening, and for that he felt partly ashamed, partly relieved. She kissed him with fingers that slid and tangled into the back of his hair, her mouth open and relaxed, tongue lazily caressing him. He felt himself yearning for her—her touch and taste, smell and sound.

This could make things right, at least for now.

She slid onto his sheets, lying back with her hair spilled across his pillow, quietly waiting for him. Her legs slipped apart and he looked at her—really looked at her—with different eyes this time. He noticed her doing the same, taking in his body with all of its strengths and its faults. Climbing atop the mattress, he moved over her, her chest arcing to his as her hand snaked around to pull him down to her mouth.

He settled against her, carefully, until her leg curled around his thigh.

Their hips ground together, subtle movements at first, the heat of her sex comforting. He felt his hardness pressing against soft, slick skin and listened to her moan. It sent a soft swell of arousal through his body. They broke their kiss for breath and she kissed his tear-stained cheeks.

He kissed hers.

"This," she whispered.

She slipped her hand between them, showing him the way.

-

There was a difference when he entered her; she could see him thinking, an element of concern mixed with desire. His expression had been different with Ellen, and she blushed and kissed him to avoid acknowledging anything else.

Laura was slick from earlier but the feeling of him inside of her and the sound of his groan made her pulse strengthen, heat washing over her body. With the slow motion of their hips she saw him shed his veil of reverence, revealing a more palpable lust that she shared, an ache deep within her. She squeezed him, a teasing challenge to continue.

She felt a growing desire to experience him unhinged; this buttoned-up man with his protocol and his civil manner had a side she'd seen just moments earlier. She felt a pang of jealousy at how he'd frakked Ellen so hard, right in front of her, and it made her want it harder. She wanted more.

Certainly he had to want her more than he wanted Ellen.

She slipped her arms around his waist and dug her fingernails into the hard muscles of his back, her teeth clenched as she twisted hard against his hips, awaiting and receiving his answering thrust that jolted her head against his pillow.

"More of that," she panted, feeling a smile quirk the side of her mouth.

"Yeah?" He thrust into her again and she gasped, his answering chuckle making her lower body tingle. Laura shifted with growing impatience.

"Frak me like you frakked her."

He stilled as he rocked slowly into her, back and forth. "Not like that."

Her confusion must have been evident, so he leaned down and kissed her jaw and her cheek, up to her ear, over to her mouth. "I'll frak you, but not like that."

She knew, then, that this was different.

"Is this what you wanted when you asked me to stay?"

His breath across her lips made her shiver.

"Yes."

-

They emerged from a tangled mess of sheets and sweat apart from each other, lying on their backs, cooling off. Bill had to remind himself that she was no longer the President so he had every right to go tell the small pangs of guilt related to fraternization of leadership to frak themselves.

What he did feel guilty for, just for a brief breath or two, was his satisfaction that she'd lost the election because it meant that it led them to this moment. He was convinced that under the constraints of their previous professional relationship, this never would have happened.

Of course, Ellen helped. He was such a bastard that he needed a wingman to get into Laura's pants. A wingman and an excuse. He surely was good at making a mess of things.

At this point, though, regret was far from his mind, as he watched her nude chest rise and fall, her chin tilted upward as she examined the top of his rack like it was a mural.

"How long have you and Ellen been involved?"

The first thing she said after they frakked had to be that. He should have expected nothing less from Laura Roslin—she not only would get to the heart of an issue, but she would stab it with a sharp stick until it bled for her, all with that smooth, calm tone of voice like she was asking you about your favorite ice cream.

"'Involved' isn't the right way to describe it." That seemed too formal to him.

"How long have you been frakking?"

When he remained silent, though he knew ignoring her question wasn't going to make it go away, she propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at him with a smirk. "It's obvious this wasn't your first time with her, Bill. Did it start when she arrived in the Fleet?"

"No," he said quickly. "I haven't... this hasn't happened since she arrived."

His interrogator chewed on her lower lip, eyebrows raised. "This used to happen before... this."

"Once in a while." He took a deep breath as she watched him. He felt exposed under her thoughtful stare. She was trying to figure him out, trying to evaluate on her own personal scale what a piece of shit he was for doing this to his best friend. "And no, Saul doesn't know. Didn't know. I don't think so, anyway."

"Hmmm." He was used to that noise she made when she was deeply contemplative. She ran her finger across his chest, tracing each of his nipples until they were hard, then placed her hand between them. "I'm not here to pass judgment, Bill. I've got no right to do that."

"Maybe you should."

She shook her head once. "I can't." She settled herself into the crook of his arm. "Doesn't she love Saul? It seems like he loves her."

"Yes, she does."

He took a quiet moment to realize that Laura was sidled up next to him, naked, talking like they hadn't just made a row of terrible mistakes in the past few days. Like they were lovers, not embattled fighters. She was relaxed, as relaxed as he was. "Maybe your definition of love is different from mine," she murmured.

"How many times have you been in love?"

It was much easier to ask her this when he couldn't see her face.

Her leg slid over his thigh, seating herself closer to him. "Once. How many times have you, Bill?"

"Once." He ran his fingers over her back in circles, the confession more comfortable than he expected.

"What happened?"

He thought for a moment. "Life."

"Hmmm." He felt her nuzzle her nose into his neck and he pulled her more snugly against him. His father used to tell him to get it while the getting was good, and that was one word of advice he so rarely had the chance to follow. "So is Ellen going to be jealous about this when she finds out?"

He chuckled at that. "I'm not going to announce it over the wireless."

"She's going to come around expecting... more things to happen." Laura's voice was serious, slightly wary. Bill knew she probably wasn't regretting what had happened, but wasn't looking for a repeat of events. He wasn't either. Ellen had used them both and he'd fallen into her trap like the idiot he always is around her. She walked away with what she wanted—she'd conquered him, something she'd been vying to do since she arrived on _Galactica_ , not to mention Laura, which was just another notch in her belt. He wouldn't be at all surprised if she actually kept count of her successes, probably on a hierarchical tree.

"She knew it was a one-time thing." Bill wasn't sure it was a good idea to be telling lies this early, but it was a lie that would soon be a truth. "She knows this changes everything."

He felt her head rise off his shoulder. "What does this change?"

He opened his eyes, expecting a look of confusion from her but what he found was curiosity and expectation. Maybe hope.

"Everything."

"Admiral, when it comes to pillow talk, you're a man of few words."

"I gotta shut my trap sometime."

"I don't mind it open." She kissed him slowly, her tongue twirling against his until she pulled away with a soft sigh. Then she turned her back to him and pressed her ass against his groin, inspiring a muted tingle of arousal within him. She reached back for his arm, pulling it around her waist. "Some things will change. Some will stay the same. They have to."

He knew what she meant and he knew it was true, as much as it depressed him. He tucked his hand under her belly and pressed closer to her, closing his eyes. She began stroking his arm and the strokes diminished as she fell asleep. Her breaths became even and soft and he was reminded of not so long ago, when every breath she'd taken was followed by a hollow rattle in her chest.

Things were going to change.  
  



	6. Games Adults Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellen's return to the Fleet brings complications to Bill and Laura's lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_epics**](http://bsg-epics.livejournal.com/) ship swap exchange in order to fulfill [](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/profile)[**wishflsinfl**](http://wishflsinfl.livejournal.com/)'s request of Bill/Laura/Ellen, not PWP, in canon. So basically, write the impossible. Know that going in.

New Caprica. The words that initially brought nothing but dread to Laura were still of little comfort, but at least settling wasn't as terrible as it could have been. In all of her reading on ancient civilizations, she was well informed of people starting anew, everything from social class systems to sanitation systems. Nothing had prepared her for the hardships they were to endure, even things as simple as living on potatoes and vegetation for uncountable amounts of days, weeks, months, until farmers were able to cultivate food resources.

But there were a few pleasures that civilian life on the planet provided. Though his visits weren't often, Bill did come down to her tent to see how well things were going. He would lend her an ear and let her go off about all of the frakkery Baltar's administration was involved in, detailing who wasn't getting what they needed and how it was taking forever for adequate shower houses to be built.

They'd always end up kissing, though. Sometimes she was tired of talking and she was pretty sure Bill was tired of listening.

Ellen Tigh had settled on New Caprica at the same time she did, but Laura had somehow avoided running into her in public places. She didn't feel like they had anything to hide or anything to be ashamed of, but she simply didn't feel like she had anything to say to the woman. And she certainly didn't want Ellen getting any ideas about a replay of their drunken post-election tryst.

Laura considered herself done with those. But the outcome had been good.

After a while, Bill had sent Saul down to settle with Ellen. And that's how they all ended up at Joe's Bar one late evening, torches burning around exquisitely built bar chairs—Laura decided she would have to ask Joe who his carpenter was. Maybe he could build tables for the school.

She'd assumed that Ellen would keep it civil while Saul and Bill yakked it up. Ideally, she would keep it silent, but Laura still had a hard time believing in miracles.

"So have you enjoyed your freedom?"

Laura stopped mid-drink and looked at Ellen. "Have you?"

"Saul and I have, yes." It was as if Ellen needed to confirm to her that she hadn't touched Bill since that night while reminding her that it happened. "It's tough down here, but all you need is love, right?"

Laura finished her drink and tried to take her seriously. "That's true. If that's what makes you happy."

Ellen drank a little more, fiddling with the rim of her glass. "So I assume you two have..."

Laura narrowed her eyes as Ellen dropped the open-ended statement in her lap. "Yes."

A dazzling smile emerged and Ellen put her hand over Laura's. "I'm so glad. So, so glad. Bill needed someone like you in his life. Someone who could devote all her time to him."

Laura laughed. "That," she said, punctuated with a long draw off her glass, "is not me. But we're good."

"He is good." Ellen squeezed her hand. "Isn't he?"

"Frak." Laura didn't mean to emote as loud as she did as she yanked her hand away. She lowered her voice. "Give it up, all right? Give it the _hell_ up."

Laura's outburst brought the attention of Bill and he turned to her. "You okay?"

"Um, obviously not," Ellen said flatly, turning away.

"Yeah." Laura closed her eyes and shook her head, a blush spreading across her liquor-warmed cheeks. "I'm going back to the tent."

Bill leaned in and pressed his lips against her ear. "I'm sorry she's getting under your skin. I'll be along soon, all right?"

The rumble of his voice soothed her and she stood up, avoiding an awkward goodbye to Ellen by turning to Bill and giving him a quick kiss. She nodded and left, relishing the idea of some quiet time alone.

-

When Laura left, Bill turned to Ellen and leaned close to her so she would effectively get his point.

"I think we need to talk," he said, his hand squeezing the back of her chair.

"Oh, Lords. I've heard that before."

He remained stoic, fully knowing that she would revel in any outward reaction he had. She stood up and brushed off her skirt. She walked over to Saul and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering as she slid her hand across the front of his belt. Bill averted his eyes, refusing to acknowledge her stupid display.

"Bill and I need to talk," she finally said. "See you in a few?"

"Fine by me," Saul drawled as he grunted. "I gotta see a man about a horse. Wait, they got those here, don't they?"

Bill shook his head as he tossed some cubits on the bar.

"Shit." Saul stumbled away.

Ellen slipped her arm around Bill's and he breathed deeply, letting her pull him aside. "Let's take a stroll, shall we?"

They made their way down a row between tents, the light of the full moon lighting their path. It was a gorgeous night, for what it was worth, temperate with a sky full of stars. Bill couldn't stop himself from looking up at them, treading carefully on the uneven dirt.

"What's on your mind, Bill?"

"That you need to stop trying to torment Laura. She doesn't care."

Ellen laughed softly. "Oh, she does. And it's so fun."

"You really love to get a rise out of people, don't you?"

She stopped and pulled her arm away from his, facing him. "People are interesting to me. I like knowing what makes them tick. I like getting inside their heads. And sometimes, I like seeing how far I can push them."

"At least you're honest," he replied.

"I'm one of the few."

He agreed with her on that. For all the manipulation she did, she had no qualms about telling anyone what she thought, even if it was after the fact.

"What happened between us on _Galactica_... what was going between us before that... it can't happen again." Bill shifted his weight and made himself look at her. She kept his gaze, her eyes questioning him.

"You mean the frakking?"

"What else would I mean?"

She looked down, then away. "It's fine. We're both in different places now. And I got what I wanted."

"I know."

"And you got what you wanted."

He took awhile to answer, feeling uneasy. "Yes, I did."

"And now that you got what you wanted, I'd appreciate you not frakking my wife again."

Bill's stomach lurched at the sound of Saul's voice. Saul stepped out into the moonlight from behind a tent. Ellen's blank expression turned into a smile, but she didn't look back at Bill, not even when Saul put his arm around her waist.

Bill stared at her, then at his expressionless best friend. Dread and shame filled him.

"All right, Saul."

He left them between tents, his course irrevocably altered.

-

Mornings on New Caprica had turned damp and cold and it eked into your bones, no matter how many blankets you pulled over your head. It's why Laura loved waking up with him, the heat of his chest against her back staying the chill of the planet, making it almost feel like a home.

Except, the morning after the bar, Laura woke up to a candle burned down to its base, alone in her tent. She kicked off her blankets to find a note left on her trunk that served as a table.

He said something had come up and he had to go back, that he didn't want to wake her, that he'd be back in a few weeks.

The Cylons came back before he did.

-

 _"You can't do this without him."_

Laura's gaze lingered, then shifted to the sky. Ellen watched her stoic expression change, pleading with the cloudless blue above.

"I don't know how much longer I can."

Ellen looked upward and stood with her, searching for a sign in newfound, quiet hope.

-

 _Epilogue_

The Raptor ride to _Galactica_ was usually short, but Laura didn't think it was long enough. It was the first time alone she'd had since she left the surface of the planet. Her nerves hadn't settled; her body was jumpy and she was still bundled up in her thick blue coat.

The Raptor landed in the hangar bay and her vision blurred. So many times she had envisioned this moment behind closed eyes while the reality of the occupation whirled around her. She'd never lost faith, not even under the worst of conditions. But now... now, she was here, and what if he wasn't on the other side of the door when it opened?

She was afraid to expect him.

The hiss of the hatch pressure release jolted her back to reality. She fumbled at her seat restraints with numb fingers that seemed to willfully defy her. She cursed under her breath and stood up just as the door was opening.

She had her face turned and he was a ghost in her peripheral vision, a smear of blue amid the gray grating of the deck. She took a deep breath and faced him, the space between them stretching for miles until he strode with purpose to the side of the Raptor wing. The desperation in his eyes is what made her move, emerging from the door and stepping gingerly down the wing to the floor.

He didn't touch her; he gave her space. She looked into his eyes, wondering what he knew and what he wanted to know. Memories flooded back into her mind and she swallowed thickly, pushing them back into the darkness where they belonged.

He slowly raised his uninjured hand, his palm flat and facing her, fingers outstretched.

She removed her shaking hand from her pocket and watched her fingers tremble as she pressed her palm against his until it stilled.

He grasped her hand, palm closing around it, and she did the same.

"I'm alive," she said, letting one tear fall. "You're alive."

She wondered how many more times they would cheat against death and win.  
  



End file.
